TOOTHPICK TEST

MARIA DALAL, INTERN

My baking career is 3 cakes strong. That’s right. Three cakes, but I am APPALLED at the lack of scientific dialogue within the baking community. Yes, sure, you have understood the molecular biology of ingredients and delicate pH balance that make the fluffy crazy monstrosities that are cakes today, but if science has made so much progress, why are my products always undercooked in the centre?

I am here today, with this comprehensive blog post, this piece of investigative journalism (if you will) TO OPEN YOUR EYES. WAKE UP SHEEPLE! Demand answers from these scammers. Toothpick test to check if your product is cooked through? Pfft. Might as well look at the sky to tell if it is raining. SCAM!

Webster dictionary defines the toothpick test as insertion of a toothpick at a right angle in the centre of your cake, if it comes out clean, it indicates that it is done. WRONG! LIES!

Define CLEAN. Define INDICATE. Define DONE.

Let us now look into this with the gravitas it warrants. Let me map it out for you.

Case 1: Banana bread

Instructed temperatures of 180° C provided an attractive golden top with occasional cracks.

Toothpick test – comes out ‘clean’

Cut down the middle and- RAW GOOEY BANANA MIDDLE.

The fallacy! The shame!

Case 2: ‘Decadent’ brownie

Claim a good brownie should have moist crumbs clinging onto the instrument. LIES. Define moist. Define crumb. Inner 25% of radius was undercooked. I …. Had to lie… and call it a molten centre… and yes, this was completely intentional.

Case 3: Irani mawa cake

Golden top, borderline crust. A ‘clean’ test, again. A raw collapsed centre, again. How much more of this can one take?

These are the answers I DEMAND from all you ‘scientists’. Face me, if you dare. The readers stand witness to the fearless mirth in my eyes.

1. RELIABILITY

A reliable instrument measures a phenomenon dependably, time after time, accurately, predictably, and without variation.

1. Where is my test-retest reliability?

After I skewer my cake repeatedly, poking, prodding till it is riddled like Swiss cheese, the stick was clean!

1. Where is my Inter-rater reliability?

When I show my toothpick to my mother, she says

‘Yes, this is clean.’

‘Please let me work.’

‘I don’t want to eat your sodden cake get away from me!’

Where is my agreement among multiple observers of the same, I repeat, same event?

• VALIDITY

1. Does this instrument designed to measure function do exactly that?

Um..no? My toothpick is beige. My batter is occasionally beige. FAIL!

1. What are the appropriate applications of the instrument?

Poking friends in their eyes-  Yes.

Fencing tournament for fingers-  YES.

Picking… of….teeth – YES!

Being … clean? NO! this is not a rehab facility

1. How is the data interpreted?

I don’t even want to discuss this.

• SENSITIVITY: Proportion of cases with the change in function

3/3 FALSE

Zero sensitivity.

• SPECIFICITY: I haven’t completely understood this concept, but my cakes were not cooked so I will follow the bullet trend that I have created with my impeccable scientific aptitude and say-

Zero specificity.

I am not even going to bother you with the standard deviation or graphs because 3/3= FALSE= FLAT LINE!

There is NO curve to FLATTEN!

I hope this careful, in depth study has made you aware of the dire consequences of scientists who lie to us- all the time! Join me in unmasking and whistle-blowing these frauds!

P.S. My publisher has made me aware that I need to reveal my conflicts of interest, but I have nothing to hide! So here it goes:

1. I don’t technically own a teaspoon or a tablespoon, so I have ordained my 2 favourite spoons with the title of TBSP and TSP, and use them in all these ‘standard’ recipes
2. I like to eyeball flour quantities. I feel like it’s a natural gift that I was born with. Sometimes I throw in an extra flourish for good luck, ya’know.
3. My oven is new and I think I threw away the manual? If I find it I will definitely let you know, but I don’t think it was very important.

P.P.S. all the scientific jargon is in italics, so you know, you can skip it without much effort but you will know it is there.

PANEER CHILLY !!

MARIA DALAL , INTERN.

The relationship of any student with a college canteen is three fold. 

1. The first level is sustenance. 

Some meals are do or die. For example, if dhvans has to attend the 3 pm kinesio lecture without a cup of coffee, she might not make it. 

2. At the second level we have celebration. There come birthdays, anniversaries, exam results and cancelled tests, and the canteen is our nearest party. In second year- on a momentous occasion rivalling the birth of a male heir or election of the least-worst-option, six of us waited eagerly at the table. It was 1.55 pm, not enough time to make it back to the classroom for pathology. And here were six pairs of eyes- looking to the counter, to the carefully balanced journey of the first bowl of Manchow soup through the dwindling lunchtime rush. The wedding march was hummed. Oohs and aahs yelled. Antacids regretfully swallowed. What a day.

3. The last is grief. 

Birthdays after twenty one, your crush’s anniversary with not-you, exam results and pre-poned tests, the canteen becomes, again , the nearest source of comfort. Nobody eats upma unless they are having a difficult day. If you see someone eating upma by themselves, especially without any chutney, reach out to them. They’re going through the unimaginable.

With clinking e-pockets and courage in our hearts, the batch of 2016-17 was fascinated with one item on the hospital canteen menu. This love affair, this star crossed obsession (if you will) was with the delicacy Paneer chilli. Priced at a whooping 60 rupees in our first month, we fell hard and never recovered. We have ordered paneer chilli in the canteen indiscriminately- every time we were happy or sad or angry or miffed- which happens to be a pervasive rollercoaster over the first year of any course. We hiked up the price of this measly corn flour anomaly from 60 to 100 in a short span of 3 years. There’s really no better way to explain demand pull inflation- for all of you financially inclined folks out there. 

Nowadays (early 2020), there’s less paneer on that plate than the number of forks we bring to share it. The functional forks (with it’s three teeth in the same, non pointy direction) in the hospital canteen are numbered, much like our days left in this undergrad course.

 We take with us a lot of memories on our journey onward, but what we’ll miss most are these fist-fights for barely-edible-rubber. What we’ll miss most is commemorating life events- all happy and sad- in the simplest way we know how. 

CHOICES

NIKITA KHOT , INTERN.

CHOICES through Paces
Even she wanted to sit by the sea side
exploring the sunset of her life and stars of the night
Perhaps situations made her choose the closed chamber

Even she wanted to relive having elixir in the woods of dreams
Perhaps they had already concreted them giving no space to inhale.

Even she wanted to paint the canvas of her imagination
Perhaps the bonds marked their limitations

Even she wanted monetary gains in all aspects of life
Perhaps the destiny wanted demonetization

Confused, even she wanted to have choice of novel creations

Refraining from present
until she realised her paths
were unkowingly leading to writers’ paradise.

TRAINS

RIA GOREY , SECOND BPTh

Apart from the terrifying experience of the crowds in trains, fighting for their life, clinging on by
whatever they find, it’s actually a whole world in itself.
I’d say I was living in a bubble until I travelled by trains because it taught me so much about the people around me.
I was mistaken that everyone is as polite as I was raised.
I was mistaken that everyone was exposed to the internet in a major way.
Although it does surprise me when I see everyone on their phones in the train, and those who aren’t, are remembering God. And that’s a very topical parallel in itself.
I got to observe the real demographic of Mumbai and was introduced to the essence of it, which
certainly has it’s own beauty.
I was pleasantly surprised to see so many working women in Mumbai, travelling by local, handling their houses, girls getting their education, higher education, reminding me it isn’t as bad as I thought. It feels very Girl in the city writing this, but okay.
Anyways, it’s always nice to get cheap earrings without even going anywhere.

LITTLE THINGS MATTER THE MOST

ANKITA SHINDE , THIRD BPTh.

What are little things? Are they about achieving success? Or having hefty salaries? 
Little things can be anything be it having a Long walk, Listening to your favorite playlist , Getting an appreciation, Writing  thoughts , Talking to your close one, Gazing the moon, Painting or just Popping a bubble wrap. 
Its all about appreciating these things which happen to us throughout our day. They are full of happiness and contentment.

We feel good when we acknowledge them. We spend our lives being busy achieving luxury and forget to cherish this treasure which lies in these small things. At the end of the day when we look back, we realise that little things account’s for big. They might be of shorter span, but they make sure that your soul smile.

You never feel lonely cause you learn to admire all those incidental things which play a purpose for you. As soon as you start noticing them you’ll realize that there is so much to do other than marching blindly in the race. Your expectancy towards things and people reduces, you start feeling satisfactory with what you have , there is where a real joy lies.
Start appreciating all what happens around you. 

Whenever we chitchat with someone we choose to talk about things which are not a part of our achievements nor goals but they are these small but precious moments which we lived once and for all. These include our mischiefs, fights , sneakouts , almost everything. Cause living in the moment matter’s. Yes, little things matter the most ! From singing  songs at the sea coast, To watching clouds as a ghost.

Little things matter the most.

From having an icecream on a random day
To experience window shopping by just watching the display 
Admiring our beauty be it black, white ,or fat and tight ; 
A sudden surprise by a thunder light
Little things matter the most.

Those scenic drives along the sealink
Under the sky that shine and blink
And the times when we overthink
Little things matter the most 

While running behind the goal
They may seem a small mole
Inspite of being materialistically sound
We do not feel happy utmost
Cause little things matter the most.

THE PALLETE OF LIFE

SANIKA GODBOLE , INTERN.

Blue, Yellow and Red.
Just three primary colors for you, the lord said.
It’s not about the colors or the number of shades,
What really matters are the memories made!
The varied patterns on the canvas, beaming with pride,
Showcase your journey, beautified.
Paints and brushes, shades and more,
Joys and tears, filled in the memory store.
The painting ready , just in one take,
Aptly blends your successes and mistakes.
All that was said and all that was done,
All that counts is, if you had fun!

SHE – PHOENIX RISEN FROM A VOLCANO !

PRISHA MEHTA , THIRD BPTh.

She wore the night,
Like a mantle of mystery.
Jewelled her pain like grandest diamonds around her neck.
She dipped her wings in ink to cover her scars,
Painting her story in the sky – words sparkling like the stars.
She sips moonlight and stumbles off drunk getting more alive than ever.
She makes broken look beautiful,
Piece by piece,
She holds together, the million Fragments of her fragile heart,
Held together with Band-aids on her fervour.
She reaches into her soul and reassembles her bones- rebuilding her rib cage,
Raising a realm for her fierce broken heart.
She’s not the same anymore,
She’s a phoenix risen from a volcano
A woman so fierce like fire dripping her soul.
She’s the mystery of tall mountain peaks,
hypnotic depths of bottomless seas.
She’s part rivers and part wildflowers,
She guards herself like a secret,
With equal parts of broken and beautiful.
She covers her scars with smiles and smirks,
and lets mysteries bleed into her shadow,
Making them a part of her.
She’s the secret of the lonely wind, and the key to all your locked dreams.
She’s all fire and flame,
She’s not the same as anyone you’ll know.
She’s the Phoenix risen from a volcano.
So If you’re too afraid of the stinging spark,
Or of the lost or of the lonely dark,
Don’t touch her,
You’ll hurt too much.

BECOMING YOU

BILWA SAWANT, THIRD BPTh.

You’re made of volatile words and dreams alone,
waiting to be wanted, yearning to be seen,
so wistful, so young and sweet,
your life is yet to begin.

You’re a work in progress, an unfinished masterpiece,
growing so quickly, nothing but starlight wrapped in skin,
so unaware, of the beauty within,
you’ll bloom in the storm and the calm akin.

You’re flailing under the weight of your thoughts,
feeling too deep, thinking too much,
so chagrined by your vulnerabilities,
you can still ameliorate everything you touch.

You’re becoming yourself, making mistakes,
learning to face the choices you’ve made,
so achingly beautiful, seeking retribution,
you won’t even notice when your battle scars fade

And…

When things get bad,
know that you’re not alone,
most everyone has felt this low,
and just like you, they haven’t let it show.

When the doubts come crashing down,
know that they may be just growing pains,
thank the universe for your sorrow,
for we must hurt in order to grow.

LOVE ZINDAGI

NEEYATI SHAH , SECOND BPTH.

One day you will realize that everything in life comes in twos. Life and death, happy and sad, pain and lesson, good and bad. Rose is the most beautiful flower but it still comes with its own thorns. Everyone of us is living life for the first time and so we are all bound to be making countless mistakes in our own crafted journeys. Life is almost like a puzzle where we passionately try to fix the wrong pieces quite often only to get a wholesome picture too quick. Don’t rush with your timeline in the zest of wanting to get the masterpiece too soon. Your time shall come but it shouldn’t mean that you have to compromise on anything. One day you will forget who you were or who they were because honestly you will be lost in the beauty of your masterpiece .You won’t care about the color that got smudged or the mistakes you made .You will just be extremely happy one day and then you will realize how beautiful life can be. Remember, life changes at every second and so the decisions you make will only help you reach closer to the paradise you had been waiting for all along.

PRESERVERANCE

MANALI DAMA, FOURTH BPTH

“The real test is not whether you avoid this failure, because you won’t. It’s whether you let it harden or shame you into inaction, or whether you learn from it; whether you choose to persevere.” -Barack Obama .

In life , every step is like process. If you do the process right then you will get the results.
In each step there is learning and growing.
Think wisely, pause to take your decision, analyze it.
Sometimes even after doing your best you won’t get your desired result
There will be sorrow, annoyance, anger.
Turn this anger to your motivation because Anger is a potent spice. A pinch wakes you up, too much dulls your senses.
Believe in yourself, perseverance is the key to success.
Life is like a game of a chess each move you make has a consequence. You won’t get the results immediately but eventually you will understand the importance of each move you made.

MESSAGE TO THE HEROES

MAITHILI GHULE, THIRD BPTh.

YEH RAAT

HRITHIK KAJROLKAR, SECOND BPTh.

Ye raato ki dulhan jo saj si gayi hai,
Tere chehre ki hassi jo khil si gayi hai.
Haato me haat dalke chalna jo chahu,
Maahol me nami jo badh si gayi hai.

Lag si gayi hai aadat jo Teri,
Kadme chal pade dishao pe teri,
Saath Ho na Tu , toh ghumu me gajni,
Raat Rani bhi tu , aur tujhse ye rajni(night).

Nind aake bhi aankh na ho jo bannd,
Ye laal ishq mera aur Tu hi laal rang,
Awara tha pehle tune badla mera dhang,
Mera jeena Ho safal agar jiu tere sang.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Ye raat mujhese ab baate karne lagi,
Meri khwaesho ka kitaab me likhne laga,
Meri Likhti Kalam khushi se ruk si gayi,
Jab likha tera naam mere naam se judaa.

Muskuraega khuda bhi niche dekhke,
Jab rahuga tere sath har waqt me khada,
Dawai me mangu tab dena Tu hi,
Jab Umar hojae apni aur hoga me budha.

Meri raato ki tanhayo me tera jo aana,
Ye raato ki gheraeyo me dubte hi jana,
Tere pyaar ki kashti me jeene laga hu,
Jiska Tu hi sahaara aur Tu hi kinaara.

Channd bhi ab jo laga dhalne,
Raat horahi khatam , mann laga samalne,
Raat ke swapno se uthna bhi tha jaruri,
Kyuki din me bhi dekhne the tere hi swapne.

LIFE , A RACE?

YAMINI BURKULE, THIRD BPTh.

Google says, a race is a competition between humans to see who is the fastest in covering a set course. Elders and movies have always depicted life as some sort of a race. Ambiguity still exists. But, should life be dealt with just as a race?
Let’s understand this concept with a biological example. As we all know, “The Olympian sperm race” has been a topic of widespread discussion. Only the sperm which reaches the Ovum first in a fit state fertilizes it, irrespective of whether it has always been ahead of others or has started late. The main aim is to reach first, not start first. But, if you develop the skill of anticipation, and start at your pace, keeping in mind your goal, then you might win any race!
I personally believe PACE is very crucial for the RACE. We need to be cut throat, in order to sustain. But, one should understand the difference between healthy competition and unnecessary comparison. The former helps us to grow, develop positively; whereas the later instills in us, the emotions of negativity, self pity and hatred. Any race that makes us question our self worth is detrimental.
A professional athlete friend of mine has said, “To win a race, you need to have a good start, then accelerate, then
maintain and for the last twenty meters, again gear up your speed and strength.” Now, apply the same logic to life.
You need not start off in a hurry.
“JALDI KA KAAM SHAITAN KA KAAM”, is what they say. A rage for triumph, without proper preparations can be futile and frustrating. To win any race, strategy and speed are equally mandatory. The speed of the horse and the strategy of the horse rider together bring victory. In this rage, we tend to miss out on the details and perfections. Similarly, being overambitious may cost us many beautiful and peaceful moments of life. Life is a summation of numerous hurdles and we need to clear one hurdle at a time to prevent injury. Each hurdle is like a milestone in this race of life and the systematic and timely achievement of these milestones is crucial for attainment of success.
We cannot gather the fruits of a tree all at once. Similarly, not all desires can be accomplished in a single go.
Patience and perseverance is the key. Greed for accomplishments brings down excellence.
Summing up, life is a race, a marathon. The aim is to win a marathon with lots of practice, strategy and patience.
Sprinting in a marathon will yield no good. This RACE can end any time, so cherish it and choose wisely the people with whom you want to run this race, for a pleasurable experience.

SEA SHORE

ANKITA SHINDE, THIRD BPTh.

Sea shore is forever a good listener.
Every time you visit,
You have something to speak from your core.
You end up spilling your heart out.
And it listens,
More curious without having a single doubt
It has its distinct way to respond,
At times in the form of silent breeze,
Or shimmery waves with a noise behind,
The silence there is for real and not virtual,
Cause it listens more and speaks less.
We go there with a bewildered mind and hindered
thoughts.
And return with a crystal clear view like the morning dew.
With its perpetual and subtle art of listening,
It always keeps us abide,
Along the seaside.

जननी आणि जन्मभूमी

NIKAM RUSHIKESH, SECOND BPTh.

1962 साली चीनने भारतावर आक्रमण के ले. अनाक्रमाचा करार झाला असताना भारतावर हे
आक्रमण झाले. पंचशील ततवांचा जयघोष चालला होता.
ह िंदी- चिनी भाई- भाई चे वातावरण होतेआणण अचानक चचनी सैन्य भारतात घुसले. प्रेमात
आणण युद्धात सवव काही क्षम्य असते असे हे व्यावहाररक ततवज्ञान आहे. राजकारणात
‘विश्िासघात’ हह ननती मानली जाते. या युद्धात एक जवान मेजर आपल्या रणकौशल्याची चुणूक
चचनी सैननकांना दाखववत होता आणण अचानक तयाच्या आईला तार आली. “आपला मुलगा
रिक्षेत्रात धाराततर्थी पडला आ े”.
“राज िंस माझा तनजला” कववतेत गोववंदग्रजांनी म्हटले आहे.
“ ते हृदय कसेआईिे मी उगाि सािंगत ना ी”
या वत्तृ ाने आई नन:स्तब्ध- अवाक् झाली हे वत्तृ मुलाच्या ननधनाचे होते पण ईश्वरी इच्छेपुढे
कोणाचे काहीच चालत नाही. मातभृ ूमीच्या अनेक मातांना पुत्रहहन व्हावे लागते. कुणाचा पती जातो
तर कोणाचा भाऊ जातो मरण तर अटळच असते पण रणांगवरील मरण हे तर स्वगवप्राप्तीची
हदशा दाखवते.
आईच ती! आपल्यासारखच अनेक मातांचे दुःुख आठववत आपले दुःुख ती माता हलके करीत
होती. दोन हदवस असेच ननघून गेले आणण नतसऱ्या हदवशी अचानक नतला तार आली की “आपला
मुलगा जजििंत आ े त्याला लिकरि लखनौच्या सरकारी दिाखान्यात आिले जािार आ े.”
मातेच्या आनंदाला पारावार उरला नाही. तयाच्या मतृयूच्या बातमीने आलेल्या डोळ्यातील दुःुखी
अश्ूंना आनंदाश्ुचे रूप ममळाले. भूममगत असा हा खजजना अचानक हाती आला तया जखमी
योध्याला लखनौच्या आमी हॉजस्पटल मधून हदल्लीच्या इजस्पतळात आणले गेले. हदल्लीत हह
बातमी वाऱ्यासारखी पसरली तया वीर युवकाला पाहण्यासाठी हदल्लीची जनता लोटली. ‘यशपाल
जैन’ सारखा स्वातंत्र्यसैननक ही हेलावून गेला तेही तयाला पाहायला गेले युवकाचा सारा
चेहरामोहराच बदलला होता. वीर पुरुषाचे तोंड- नाक-डोळे जखमांनी ववकृत झाले होते हातापायांची
बोटे तुटली होती पण तयाची आई मात्र प्रसन्न हदसत होती. नतच्या चेहऱ्यावर आनंदाच्या लहरी
उसळत होतया. यशपालजींनी ववचारले, “आता मुलाकडे पाहून तुम्हाला कसे वाटत आहे?” नतचे डोळे
आनंदाने चमकले. “माझ्या मुलाने रणांगणातून पळ काढला नाही, ही के वढी अमभमानाची गोष्ट
आहे! परमेश्वराजवळ माझी एवढीच प्रार्वना आहे की हा लवकर बरा होऊ दे व देशाच्या
स्वातंत्र्यरक्षणासाठी पुन्हा लढायला जाऊदे.”
“जननी जन्मभूीमीश्ि स्िगाादवप गररयसी”
माता आणि मातभृ ूमी स्िगाापेक्षा ी श्रेष्ठ आ ेत. माणसाचं कतवृतव हे तयाच्या ततवननष्ठेशी
ननगडीत असतं. मरण तर अपररहायव आणण अटळ आहे पण अशा मृतयूच स्वागत करणारी माणसं
कधीचं मरत नाहीत ती तर अजरामरच होतात. हे वीर पुरुषाच्या मातेचे असलेले उद्गार इतरांनाही

प्रेरणादायी ठरतात आणण यालाच तर मातेचे संस्कार म्हणतात अशा संस्कारांनी माणसांचे जीवन
संपन्न होत असते. ‘मदत करिे’ हीच वृतत्ती धेयवमशलतेच्या मागे असते. ‘धाडस’ हा सद्गुण आहे.
ही मदत करण्याचे दोन मागव समाजात उपलब्ध आहेत – मग ती व्यक्ती स्त्री असो वा पुरुष.
आपल्या शेजाऱ्याला तर आपण मदत करतोच पण जेव्हा देशावर परकीय आक्रमणे होतात तेव्हा
शत्रूशी रणांगणावर जाऊन शत्रूशी दोन हात करणे हाही एक असामान्य धाडसािा आणि
धेयशशलत्िािा उकृष्ट आदशव आहे
व असे धेयव दाखवणारा आपला पुत्र आहे हा मातेचा रास्त
अमभमान समाजातील अन्य जणांना प्रेरणादायक ठरतो.
“समाजािा मान िाढतो. राष्रािा ध्िज उिंि रा तो आणि मातेिे मस्तक अशभमानाने ताठ
रा ते.

HUMAN BEHIND THE WHITE COAT

NATASHA TUNGARE , SECOND MPTh.

To save you, I’ve thrived hard
To operate a life, wasn’t easy as game of card
My efforts you could never even note
Said the human behind white coat

Sweating in Covid wards without a fan
But I got nothing more than,
Knives piercing down my throat
Exclaimed the human behind white coat

I left my personal life behind
Curing every soul who is deaf or blind
Life in prescription is what I wrote
Cried the human behind white coat

Healing you has been priority of mine
Patient smiles has always made me shine
Far from families, residing remote
But there is a human behind white coat

BROKEN YET BEAUTIFUL !

NEEYATI SHAH , SECOND BPTh.

At times, life will seem to you like the rollercoaster that goes down but never comes up. You will find yourself stuck in a loophole of feelings. You feel broken terribly and at that time the best option you will consider is giving up. But don’t broken crayons still manage to color? I think there is a different healing you experience when you love broken things. You will slowly come to terms with the fact that broken things are perhaps beautiful too. Broken clouds cause rain, broken grain gives bread and broken hearts give birth to a new power in you. Sometimes, it might seem like the end of things but remember after each dark night there is a sunny morning. You will only grow in life when you start noticing the stars in the dark and the sun between the clouds. You’ve to get through the worst times to experience the best ones!

WHEN HADES DECIDES TO LIVE.

MARIA DALAL , INTERN.

SHABD……

SAAKSHI JAIN , FIRST BPTh.

Shabd toh bade sikha gaye,

Par un alfazo ki ehmiyat toh zindagi sikhati he,

Shabd mehsoos karna mushkil toh tha,

Par unse jude jazbaat mehsoos karte hue woh shabd bhi asaan hogaye…

PERSONAL EXPERIENCE

ARYAA PATADE , SECOND BPTh.

Time is all that matters. Life has good times and bad times. There is a stage in everyone’s life when we tend to lose people,.. the people who we love, we care and respect. Losing in a real sense they die .I was 12 when I went to a funeral, the first funeral I ever attended. My uncles grandmother who was quite old had passed away. My aunt and uncle lived in Australia. I still remember I was at my house when my dad received a call saying that ashish’s aaji is no more.
Mom and dad rushed things and asked me to come along. The concept of a funeral was always
unknown. Only questions in my 12year old mind popped were how to behave ,how to react and not do something wrong to hurt someone’s feelings. We reached there, might have taken only few minutes from my grandma’s. A small room not bigger than 150 sq. feet on the ground floor with direct entrance in the building compound. ‘Aaji’….as i used to call her….,This lady alone used to live in that block with an attic where my uncle grew old. My uncle used to stay with his grandmother all his life until he went to united states for job. Her lifeless body was placed on a mattress. Her two sons standing near the door and their wives next to the body. Aaji’s eyes were open, a little moist being soulful yet lifeless. I was at the door still ,couldn’t move, as if I had froze. Mom tapped my shoulder and told me to touch aaji’s feet.
I don’t remember what happened next, just that I came home and took a bath. I sat on the couch and
started thinking.
I couldn’t stand the fact that the person I had been going to ever since I was 5 was no more . There wasno part our genes which matched… yet she meant a lot .Every week I used to deliver food which was made by my mother usually something special cooked in our house. I used to meet her everyday , my everyday route to the dairy passed by her house. Even today when I take that route I remember her, she never closed the door in daylight. She used to get up early no matter what day it was ,cook and complete her daily chores. She used to sit in a chair near the door and watch television which was just besides the main door. I used to stand near the door and ask her,” HOW ARE YOU?” and as my mum said never forget to ask if she needs something from the grocery or dairy, With her smile which grew across her face looking at me she used to reply ,”no nothing”, we would talk about somethings, ask each other about our well beings and then i would take a bid. She had a light skin tone, always dressed in a saree and had a sparkle in her beautiful big eyes, old in age but her strength was tremendous, enough to influence a person , she was a soft caring sweet old lady.
I stood up and walked across my house reminding how every Diwali without fail she used to call us at exactly at 5am and wish us prosperity and happiness for life ; prepare puranpoli on the festival of Holi every year till she got sick and went to her sons house so they could take care of her .
Years passed …… I grew but somewhere in my mind she was always there ,when I see the closed door of her house I get sad ,when no one wakes us up at 5 am in Diwali to wish luck I get sad, when I was not so close enough to her yet I miss her honest cute grin and her soulful eyes I feel sad!… that was when I understood what losing people means whether they are close to us or not.
Its is our teens when many of our old aged relatives die or sometimes untimely events takes our young dear ones away from us ..we don’t know how to react , how to feel at such times .I think we should sit back for a moment and listen to our hearts, remember the person’s good memories and how well they have lived in our minds ..but always remember that life goes on…we can’t sit forever and grieve but rather we remember them time to time and honour them in our thoughts.

ACHALA

MARIA DALA , INTERN.

As I rolled up my sleeve to take the third injection against rabies after a recent dog bite, a friend asked, “I don’t get this. Are you sure you did nothing?” And I rolled my eyes as I half heartedly took this opportunity for redemption. “Yeah, I mean I just winked at it” I muttered. And this morning as I happened to waltz through the garden with hands all over the place I suddenly realised I invaded this dog’s space again. I swear to you, it turned with such angst as it jolted on, it was threatening to get me arrested.  I wondered if some offenders were simply perky and how if I was to be convicted for strange behaviour, I’d rather have a psychiatrist of choice, asking him not to tie me up. Id ask for my space. Oh? Is that why he hasn’t called back yet? Am I taking too much space? What is this space business? You know, if the nucleus of an atom was the size of a marble, the orbit of the first electron is as large as a football field. The rest of it is empty!  So if we were to remove all of this space, hypothetically, all 7 billion of us would fit in a matchbox. That makes me question everything. However, have you seen something in nature take its space? Apart from the legspace of the other 3 ladies when you’re on the 4th seat, most things in nature seem to poetically converse in spaces. The ones between your breath when you’re feeling content, or those between your heart beats and fingers and shoulders and tears. Blades of grass, legs of storks, petals of a lotus, ends of lips in playful smiles, or the gracefully stretching dog that bit me, seems like authenticity is perceived through how these things take their space. The fifth element, making most of who I am, is this emptiness. It’s best to make friends with it for as I said, it is a great conversationalist. Speaking in silences, leaving you in tears of all kinds, it can show you the hollowness of nihilism, belittle the existence of anything you can identify with, leave you feeling all by yourself, connected with every thing perceivable. I wonder what  nature had in mind when it said, this, this human species, is my masterpiece. Birds flying with radar systems, fishes on in-built SONAR, bees carrying blueprints and maps in a brain the size of a grain of sand, a seed carrying the capacity to Repopulate the flora on this planet, unafraid to lose its identity as it bursts into a radicle and plumule and then there is me, struggling to find the K-lab cupboard keys because that’s so much extra work. I’m at the top of this evolutionary chain. You know what my best shot at guessing the unobvious update that we are carrying is? I think our super feature is choice. You can choose to tell me why your shoulders are droopy and that leg shaking. Why you’re making fists of your palms as you are mindlessly biting your lip. I can choose the rhythm of life. How I sit, breathe, make sonettos or rap songs with my heart beats, embrace you or hold your hand as we strut into failing and trying again at skillfully maneuvering our share of the emptiness of this universe.

JANNAT….

SAAKSHI JAIN , FIRST BPTh.

जन्नत-सी ज़िंदगी मिली थी,

नरक-सा बनाया उसे इज्जत कमाने के लिए,

पाया बहुत कुछ लेकिन सुकून नहीं,

खोया बहुत कुछ लेकिन अभिमान नहीं,

जनम लिया नादानी के साथ,

लेकिन मरने को तैयार गुरुर के साथ ।

LITERATURE ACHALA

MARIA DALA , INTERN.

You. Who can’t figure what, but can’t think not of what is bothering you. Who can’t feel the new year, new you.  Who wishes when someone says, “what is it? let’s talk”, you knew, oh how you wish you knew. You need saving and loving and that seems so much to ask for and no one to ask from, even with hands of assurance all around you.        Hey you, saving lives without knowing. Easing pain with warm towels and ice bottles. Breaking down less, and ever so often. Let me let you speak, of your pain and how you’re breathing lately. How your sleep has been changing, how food doesn’t seem to be helping you.    Second guessing, if the hand of assurance, loving and forgiving you’re awaiting, is of you.     Wondering if while learning to be a physical therapist, it is worth having a kit of tools and a set of skills that can save you.  A warm conversational hot pack that breaks the pain – mind spasm cycle. An emo-meter helping you express where you are or mental mobilization when thoughts and feelings grip you. Why are we hesitant? Along with learning professionalism and cooking, “Tamara matha kharab hoye toh su karvanu che?” is worth addressing. “Mala koni prem karat nahi,” vaatlyavar knowing what to feel next can come in handy.     Half asleep and half anxious almost adults have come together and are calling you. We are willing to make ourselves healthier and for god’s sake, happy. We are refreshing the memory of “neeehaaaa khelne aa rahi haaii??” realising it has got to be “Nehaaaa want to be working on your mental health and emotion? Come lets go!” Look outside. The corona and NRC, an impending nuclear war, broken marriages and the strangest atrocities, why does it look like the inside of my mind before a deadline? And how long am I willing to get knocked over by every breeze of change or challenge? It looks like it’s time for reconstruction. Of governments and policies, foundations of nations and relations and of you. It’s a good time you know, to let go, of the temporary fixes, and empty assurances because whether you like it or not,  inqulab ki dastak har darwaze par hai, how can we escape this one, this internal revolution? Let’s see it through this time.

SHAYARI – EK SUNEHRA SAPNA.

NILAV JADHAV , SECOND BPTh.

Tumhara phir se laut ke aana, Mujhme ek nayi umeed layi hai , Ek naya khwaab sa jagayi hai , Meri berang zindagi mein rangon ki bahar layi hai , Phir ek baar naya ehsaas jagai hai , Mujhe phir se jeene ki wajah dilayi hai.

Par phir har roz ki tarah mera yeh sunehra sapna toota hai , Meri aankh khulti hai , Aur tu sirf mere khwabon mein banke reh jaati hai.

Par phir har roz issi umeed mein sota hu , Ki tumhe sapno mein toh dekh saku , Haqikat mein naa sahi tujhe sapno mein hi haasil kar saku.

Par taqdeer toh dekhiye meri , Naa toh haqikat mein aur naa hi sapno , Tujhe haasil kar paya , Tu mera sirf ek sunehra sapna banke meri yaadon mei reh gayi.

PROMISE

PREETI BELANI , INTERN.

Once I put on a ring. A golden ring. A lovely ring. The
ring. It was one of the two things I loved the most. The
other was appropriately sized to take into arms.
Was ambulant to go to the park with
Was hungry to share a meal with
Was articulate to speak memories with
Was lazy to sneak into mischief with
One willing morning, playing peek-a-boo with the sun,
she tells me, “Imagine perishing into the radiance, just
like that”
She was asking for water. That’s just how she was:
articulate.
Skipping stones, she crossed the rivulet and called me
by her favourite name. She needed me as a witness.
Kneading the moist soil, I am asked to bury one thing
with a sacred promise. Gold lay buried there for as long
her chuckles reverberated around my eardrums, around
my consciousness till it found its twin.
Her heart.

SECRET OF LIFE

MAHIMA PATHAWAR, FIRST BPTh.

Let me share with you
A secret of life today,
As with new hopes
We march into a new day.

Believe yourself
Trust your abilities
And this self confidence
Will boost your capabilities.

If you have an aim
And direction to follow,
I bet your life won’t be
Meaningless and hollow.

Have faith
For it changes your fate,
So arise and act
Before its too late

Because we have only
One life to live
And so much to do
And so much to achieve.

THEHER JAA….

SAAKSHI JAIN , FIRST BPTh.

ठहर जा थोड़ा,

रुक जा थोड़ा,

मत भाग इतना,

मत उड़ इतना,

ज़िंदगी बहुत लंबी है,

ज़िंदगी बहुत मुश्किल है,

कुछ देर साँस ले ले,

कुछ देर परख ले,

कुछ पल बना ले बेहतरीन,

कुछ यादें बना ले हसीन,

मुस्कानों से भर ले पिटारा,

शायद ये ज़िन्दगी ना मिले दोबारा ।।।।

FAIRYTALE

PRISHA MEHTA , THIRD BPTh.

ISHQ / RISK

SAAKSHI JAIN , FIRST BPTh.

Ishq ki alag jaan he,

Duniya se bekhabar,

Khwabo me basa,

Gehriyon se anjaan,

Jalpari-sa ghumta,

Bina kisi sarhaad,

Aasmam me parindo ki tarah udta

ONE LAST TIME

KEERTI UDASI , SECOND BPTh.

Crying,I entered the building,
Unaware of everything.
Not knowing what fate had for me,
I went on to give my best.

That building gave me knowledge,
Imbibed Humanity in me,
Gave me the strength and
will to face the world.

Oh!How beautifully the friendships brewed
Made fun of teachers,
Teasing other girls by their crushes,
We shared a bond as strong as family.

Today,as I leave the school building for one last time,

I feel lost.
The walls of this building have heard me cry,
Witness my happinesss,
Saw me grew up.
Weird is the school life,
You cry when you enter,
You cry harder when you leave.

HOSPITAL- TEACHING AND PREACHING

NATASHA TUNGARE , SECOND MPTh.

Keep your eyes and ears open and you will get to learn a lot from your environment around!!!
When you are working at a place for really long, you somehow get attached to that place. And yes,
for me this place was nothing but HOSPITALS. Being in medical field, hospitals have already taught
me a lot. Yeah you might have never heard someone loving hospitals, ofcourse not, but for doctors
these hospitals are as good as their second homes. I cannot even describe how much these patients
have taught me. Medical students often learn hands-on on patients but I’ve learnt something beyond that. They have taught me how to LIVE LIFE!! Sounds strange isn’t? How can someone who himself is on deathbed teach me about living life?
We keep cribbing about small mishaps each day. We never value the people who are always there
for us and that’s our own family. We hardly give time to our family. Your family is going to be with
you when you are in ICU and no one else! When I see those tearful eyes of mother who’s besides her unconscious son on ventilator, that’s when I realize how grateful I’m for everything. When you listen to the painful life stories of such patients, you suddenly realize that your problems are too small, infact insignificant.
People often ask me how can you not get angry? How can you stay so calm always? When I look
back I realize I’m not the same person I was around 4 years ago. This maturity, peaceful mind,
gratitude, kindness is all because of the experiences I had. As I always say “Life is all about
experiences. Some are good some are bad. Either ways you learn” and hospitals and patients are a
reason for me to have this change.
Do you know the story of Gautam Buddha? King Siddharth Gautam once while visiting his kingdom
saw death of a person and the grief of his family heading towards funeral, he saw a beggar begging
for food which is a basic need, he saw a widow carrying her little baby in arms wandering completely helpless. And that impact of all this was so much hurtful to him that he left his throne and kingdom
and started helping and serving people. He became spiritual. I just gave the most minor jist of the
story but point being there are people around who have faced more, suffered more, cried more.
Think about them and your problems suddenly seem tiny.
One painful experience can completely change you and your perception towards the world! We all
aren’t saints but we can do our part to serve the society.

Hostel Life- A Turning Point

NATASHA TUNGARE , SECOND MPTh.

Few days back I was just scrolling through my camera roll and tears rolled down my eyes. You know when you have created memories at a place, you can never forget that place. Hostel, is one of the place for me where I’ve created memories. It is a place where I’ve had a lot many amazing experiences. Experience is the best teacher and hence my hostel life proves to be my best teacher.
Every person has different turning points in their lives which turn out to be an opportunity, sometimes a lesson, or at times an experience for them. And I have had all of these in my hostel life.
These turning points become an integral part of lives as they always open up a completely new world before you! For me, hostel life was one of the turning points. It changed me, my thought process, my behavior, my personality, my approach towards life. This turning point happened to me after my 12th grade (junior college) when I had to move out into a completely new city for higher education.
New connections, new place, new residence and most importantly being away from home. Coping up and adjusting with these wasn’t an easy task for me. But I knew that this is for my own betterment and so went on with the flow, though I’m not a person who goes with a flow. I always need some twists and turns in life. I hate being monotonous. Haha! Yes hostel life has always been something which bought twist and turns to my monotonous life! There are uncountable things I’ve learned here from different sources. Friends, college, colleagues, teachers and strangers too. Culture and people in a new city truly has a lot to teach you ! And hence moving into a new place actually proved to be a boon. Being an introvert it was initially difficult for me to socialize. But I soon got along really well.
You know when everything just falls at it’s perfect place! Perfect roommates, friends, perfect space.
It’s been four years and I’m so much in love with the change in me! Change in behavior, change in mindset, introvert being to ambivert being, change in personality, habits, l and a lot more. This single writeup is too small to describe the ‘entire me’. Sometimes I just think if at all I would have never taken this opportunity, would have never moved to a new place, I would have never ever evolved so much. I would have never explored myself, would have been a complete monotonous minded person! Maybe wouldn’t have thought of writing or playing guitar or developing my hobbies. And this is the reason my I gave my blog the title “Explore Yourself”. This thought makes me feel so good about my decisions as hostel life is the place where I have discovered my own self. After all you’re not evolving if you don’t have a thrilling life!

ICU DEATHBEDS

NATASHA TUNGARE , SECOND MPTh.

With mask over face and white gloves on
I entered the ICU and just gazed upon
My eyes staring at those endotracheal tubes
Piercing through neck’s every cell cube
My ears hearing the ventilator machine beeps
Yet the unconcious patients were into deep sleep
Not even a voice from those bedridden humans
Their accident histories sounded too inhuman
I could feel the mourn in their immobile bodies
Nothing but pain running through their nerves and arteries
Lying in critical condition on that deathbed
Heart and brain praying for more years ahead
They couldn’t move but they could feel
Just wanted a little more care for them to heal!!

THE MASK : COMPANION SINCE 2020.

SANIKA GODBOLE, INTERN.

Zindagi Messy Hai !

NEEYATI SHAH , SECOND BPTh.

If I’ve learned anything from life,it’s that life never follows a plan or schedule. Sometimes things are hunky dory and sometimes they are catastrophic. Sometimes you are just smiling your heart out and sometimes you are crying endlessly. Sometimes life is full of happiness and the next moment you feel a huge void in your heart. Sometimes the most painful struggles will grant you the most necessary growth.Sometimes the people who make you the happiest will leave you disappointed.But between all this, you will still live life. This is your life and it’s going to confuse you yet comfort you. You are going to experience things that will leave you shattered and also learn things that will teach you to fight back. You are going to be exhausted by the chaos  but also be ignited with  passion. Yes, undoubtedly  life feels like a mess most number of times. It’s confusing, comforting,  heartbreaking and also wants to make you run away from it; but this is your life and you are going to get through the complications. You are going to love it one day and everything will be worth it. So live a little more in each second  of time because before you realise, life will be half gone. Learn to be happy  and live each moment whole heartedly because ‘Live, Love, Laugh’ is the most amazing choice one can ever make.

STRUGGLE…..

SAAKSHI JAIN, FIRST BPTh.

Struggle to worst,

For best,

Run the race,

With pace,

Earn money,

For harmony,

Gain respect,

For self-respect,

Spend time,

To worship divine,

Vow for success,

To get blessed.